


Iron Heart & America's Shield

by CMRandles



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, mentions of past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:52:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMRandles/pseuds/CMRandles
Summary: Stony!AU Steve Rogers is the CEO of a non-profit company that provides jobs and counseling for veterans. Tony Stark is a photographer struggling to make ends meet and pridefully refusing help from his billionaire father. Steve needs a genius artist for a marketing campaign that might snatch his company back from the brink of disaster. Tony needs to pay his rent without selling his soul. What could go wrong? Or, perhaps, very very right.





	1. Artistic Integrity

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first venture into AU territory, but I'm excited to give it a shot! I welcome any and all feedback as we go along; your input is tremendously valuable to me. I do love these boys dearly - in any universe.

Tony Stark stared up at the behemoth glass building and felt his gut turn over. He knew that America’s Shield LLC didn’t own even a quarter of the building; they had offices on only a single floor, but it still made him queasy. Fifteen years ago he had promised himself that he would never set foot in another sanitized office building, that he would blaze his own trail away from the grinding, crunching, life-destroying power of the corporate machine. And yet, here he was.

He sighed, gathered the tattered remains of his pride, and pushed through the revolving doors. Glancing at the directory on the wall he saw that America’s Shield’s offices were on the sixteenth floor. He rode the elevator with a bunch of suits staring unblinkingly at their cell phones. _What am I doing here?_ He thought miserably.

His best friend and roommate, an Air Force veteran himself, James Rhodes would have happily reminded him. “You need a job, Tones. A real job. Like, one that pays you reliably. I can’t carry your ass forever just because you’re too proud to stick a hand out for Daddy’s money.”

Tony scowled at the memory. Of course he didn’t expect Rhodes to pay for everything, that had never been the arrangement. When they had agreed to move in together after college Tony had a successful photography business. He did portraits, some catalog work, and even the odd wedding (oh, how he hated those) and it paid the bills just fine and dandy. However, the complaints had been stacking up the last few years. His business (Iron Heart Media) acquired Yelp reviews with phrases like “difficult to work with”, “unreliable”, and “drunk”. What was once a steady stream of work became a trickle and then an outright drought. Rhodey had been quietly paying the rent and buying ramen noodles for the both of them for the past three months, watching Tony’s downward spiral until he could stay silent no longer. It was Rhodes that had actually made this connection. He and the founder and CEO of America’s Shield both sat on a Veteran’s Affair’s board for the US Department of Defense and had gotten to talking over lunch or a drone strike or something (Tony had no idea how these things worked). Apparently the CEO had mentioned that his own funding had dried up and America’s Shield had to make one last hail-mary of a marketing campaign or the whole enterprise was likely to fold.

“Need a kickass photographer?” Rhodey had asked.

“Why yes, yes we do,” the corporate toolbox had answered.

And here Tony was riding the elevator to sell his soul.

 _It’s a non-profit, Tony_ , the voice of Rhodey reminded him in his head, _you do know what that means, right?_

The elevator doors opened and Tony elbowed his way through the suits until he reached the doorway to the offices. He took a deep breath, shook out his shoulders, and pushed it open. For a moment, he stood there in shock, more than slightly worried that he had been transported back in time. America’s Shield’s offices were like something out of the 1950’s. There were rows of old-timey desks in the middle of the warehouse-like space, surrounded by glass-walled offices. If it weren’t for the handful of employees with colored hair staring at their cellphones Tony might have actually worried that he stepped through a dimensional portal.

He walked up to the reception desk where a pretty brunette was regarding him with some interest. Tony, in his ripped jeans, Stooges band t-shirt, and very carefully mussed hair, very much did not belong in this environment.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi yourself,” he answered, leaning against the desk with a grin. “I’ve got an appointment, but I think I might rather just hang out here for a while.”

“Mr. Stark?” a deep male voice spoke up from behind him.

Tony turned. His body and mind immediately went to war with one another.

His body said: _Oh my God, look at this gorgeous human being. Is he real? Who cares. All of the blood is being redirected to your dick now._

His mind said: _He’s wearing a suit that looks like something my grandfather could have been buried in. His haircut is so out of date it is actually painful to my eyes. Where did this guy come from? A time capsule? Has he been stored in an underground bunker for the last forty years and shown only episodes of_ Leave it to Beaver _?_

His body interrupted: _Did you peep the musculature under that dusty old suit? Day-um._

“I think I’m your appointment,” the big blonde confusing specimen said, sticking out his enormous hand.

Tony adjusted his bag to cover his semi-erection and shook hands. He was aware that his mouth was probably hanging open and endeavored to recover his composure.

“I’m Steve Rogers. CEO,” the blonde explained with a smile that could have single-handedly ended every conflict on earth.

“Hi,” Tony said lamely. Normally words came easily and with great creativity to his mind, but they had all vanished like migratory birds in the last few seconds. He glanced at the receptionist who was smiling hugely, though she tried to hide it behind her hands, feigning a cough.

“The rest of the team is waiting in the conference room. If you’ll follow me,” Steve said, turning and leading the way across the antique office and into a wood-lined conference room. Tony openly gaped at the other man’s truly _legendary_ ass throughout the journey.

Steve held the door for him and Tony passed well within his personal space as he entered to find two other people waiting for him at an enormous table. A black man with a thin moustache stood up and offered his hand, “Sam Wilson, director of operations,” he said.

“Tony Stark,” he replied, shaking.

A truly gorgeous woman with long red hair offered her long-fingered hand. “Natasha Romanov, director of Marketing,” she said with only the barest hint of an accent.

“Is everyone who works here actually a model?” Tony said, only to realize he had asked this question out loud.

Natasha laughed, and Steve blushed adorably, chuckling into his fist. They all sat around the gigantic table, Tony edging himself away from the others by a good distance.

“Before we start, can I get you anything? Water, coffee?” Steve asked.

 _You, naked, covered in whipped cream please,_ Tony thought but managed not to speak. “No, I’m good.”

“We looked at your portfolio on your website,” Romanov said without preamble.

Tony registered surprise, but sat back and crossed his arms. “Yeah, and?”

“It’s compelling stuff,” Wilson said. “Especially the work you did for the New York Paralympic team. It’s actually very similar to what we’re looking for.”

“Except that I wasn’t trying to exploit those people for money,” Tony said smoothly, meeting Steve’s eyes and watching them darken perceptively.

“That’s not what we’re talking about either,” the big man said.

“No? I was under the impression you wanted me to take pictures for a marketing campaign.”

“We do,” Steve explained. “But we’re not _exploiting_ anyone. We work with veterans, for them, helping men and women returning from war to find jobs, housing, and assisting them in readjusting to everyday life. We need some pieces that showcase that struggle, to assist our fundraising efforts.”

Tony snorted. “You want to tug at rich people’s heartstrings so they’ll start waving the flag and writing you checks.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Natasha asked him, her tone even and calm.

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. It’s just not my style. I’m an artist.”

Steve frowned. “That’s what we’re looking for, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony, please. You may all pretend that this is nineteen thirty four or something, but I’m actually living in the real world where we use first names and wear jeans to work. Listen, I hear what you want and I get it. You need something poignant and heartbreaking and I’m sure I could do that for you.”

He paused.

“But?” Wilson prompted, leaning his elbows on the table.

“But...this isn’t really my gig. I’m a free spirit, okay? I can’t work following a project plan and with some screw breathing down my neck the entire time. I need space and time and resources.”

“No one is saying you can’t have that,” Steve put in.

“Looking around here...this doesn’t seem like the kind of place where you let people do their own thing.”

“You’re judging a book by its cover,” Natasha said.

He shrugged. “That’s what covers are for, aren’t they? Look, you all seem nice and I’m sure you believe very much in what you’re doing, but I have an extensive list of demands that I’m just not sure you’re up for.”

Steve Rogers was now staring at him stone-faced. Tony’s erection, having finally seen reason, had departed along with his hopes for this job. It seemed that Rogers had made similarly pessimistic decisions about him as well.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” the CEO said, rising from his chair.

“Hold on, hold on,” Natasha said, jumping up and putting a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “Tony, I’m sorry, could you give us the room for a minute?”

“Sure, don’t mind me,” Tony said, rising and stepping out. He walked into the adjacent little break room and made himself a cup of coffee. It tasted smooth and expensive. He helped himself to a scone as well, watching through the glass as the three members of the leadership team argued with one another.

It was clear from his body language that sexy, sexy Steve Roger had made up his mind. His hands were clenched into fists, his jaw tight. Natasha was speaking to him in a low voice, leaning close and sweeping her curtain of hair over one shoulder. Sam mostly listened, putting in his two cents now and then, his expression the most neutral of the three.

After a moment, Steve sighed and put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. Tony knew he had gotten the job and felt a wave of disappointment crash through him. There was no way out now but to outright refuse the job.

Natasha opened the door and ushered him back in. Tony leaned against the wall, sipping his coffee and waited for the verdict.

“Let us know what you need,” Steve said, obviously restraining himself from clenching his teeth, “and we’ll do our very best to accommodate you. We are a small company and we don’t have many resources, but what we do have is at your disposal. You’re a talented artist, Mr. Stark,” he emphasized Tony’s surname, his own little act of rebellion, “and we want to work with you. Do you want to work with us?”

Tony glanced around at the three faces all looking expectantly in his direction. “I need half of my fee upfront,” he said flatly.

The three others exchanged glances.

“We can make that happen,” Sam said.

“Total creative control,” Tony continued.

“Okay,” Natasha agreed.

“And you are going to take me to dinner,” he said directly to Steve who flinched like he had hit him.

“Excuse me?” he said, then gathered his composure. “I’m sorry, I just...sure, yes. Okay. Dinner. Sounds good.”

From the expression on his face it did not, in any universe, sound good. But Tony couldn’t resist the opportunity to poke at the beefcake just a little more, in private.

 _Am I really going to do this?_ He asked himself. Then he thought of Rhodey, pulling double shifts as a security officer trying to pay for the rent on their shitty apartment and strengthened his resolve. _It’s just one job,_ he told himself.

Tony stuck out his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Steve shook it, meeting his eyes. “Glad to hear it.”

Tony could swear that he felt sparks fly when their fingers touched, little electric shocks flying up his arm and giving him goosebumps. And a part of him, a section only distantly connected to his limbic system, told him: _You could be in real trouble here, bucko._  


	2. A Business Meeting

Steve woke in the morning to find Tony Stark lingering on his mind like smoke. He had been furious after their meeting the previous day, having been pressured into hiring the arrogant, pushy, and obviously shiftless photographer by Natasha who insisted that he was indeed the best. It seemed to Steve that someone who was the ‘best’ at anything probably didn’t wander around dressed like a vagrant degenerate. But then there were those eyes, sharp, laughing,and intense, that stared defiantly at him and seemed to see straight through the veneer that Steve kept so carefully between him and the rest of the world. It was frightening to think that someone he had known only a few minutes might have really gotten his number.

He got to the office early, his blue tie like a noose around his thick neck. Steve kept unconsciously tugging on it as he fixed a cup of coffee and chatted with several of his employees in the break room. As soon as possible he escaped to his office and sat behind his desk breathing deeply for a few moments. He unlocked his computer from its sleep state and found that Iron Heart Media’s homepage was still open on his browser. He jerked away from the computer as though it has shocked him before kicking himself for being so foolish. He had been looking at Stark’s portfolio yesterday before the meeting and had forgotten to close the window, that’s all. He moved to do so, but one of the many images scrolling by at the top of the screen caught his eye. He clicked on the image and it filled the screen.

It was a picture of a man’s chest, shirtless and sprinkled with dark crinkly hairs. Across the center of the skin, between the well-defined pectoral muscles, ran a red angry scar. It was uneven, jagged, and spanned the length of the man’s breastbone. The photo was shot with interesting lighting, illuminating the center of the chest in a glowing circle of soft blue. Steve found himself staring and had to admit that perhaps Natasha was right. Tony Stark was indeed good at what he did.

There was a knock on his office door and he hurried to close the browser window as though he had been looking at pornography.

“Come in,” he said breathlessly, trying to pull himself together.

Natasha stuck her head in. She took one look at him and knew exactly what was going on, as she always did. Stepping in, she shut the door behind her and faced him with a knowing smile, the jerk.

Steve sighed, sensing that he was done for.

“You look like a kid caught doing something naughty,” she observed, settling herself gracefully in one of the chairs across from him.

“I’m not exactly on my game this morning,” he admitted.

“Trouble sleeping?”

 _Trouble with dreams_ , he thought but did not say. Instead he just nodded and reached for his cooling coffee. “How can I help you this morning?”

It was a notorious rumor in the office that Steve and Natasha were an item. After all, they were as close as two people in a working relationship could be and they spent a great deal of time together behind closed doors. The truth, however, was quite another matter. In fact, Natasha was the only person in his circle of confidants to whom Steve had confessed his homosexuality and she treated it with the reverence and security of a state secret. They both let people in the office think what they would - it made life easier for both of them. No one asked too many personal questions when they assumed all of the answers anyway.

“Excited about your date tonight?” she volleyed, ignoring his question of her.

Steve rolled his eyes. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

“Come on, Rogers, you could do a lot worse.”

“It’s not a date,” he insisted.

“Oh?” she answered, twirling a lock of hair idly around her finger.

“It’s a business meeting,” he said and could hear the lack of sincerity burning through the air like an escaped ember.

Natasha nodded. “Oh, yes. You’re right. So sorry to have forgotten.”

“Do you want something?” Steve asked more directly, losing his patience.

“Two things, actually. The first was to see if you changed your mind about Tony Stark after sleeping on it.”

Steve shook his head grudgingly. “No. I don’t like him, but I think you’re probably right about him being the right person for the job. Besides, you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with his bull anyway.”

She nodded sagely. “True enough. The second thing was to tell you that I made reservations for you at Angelo’s tonight.”

Steve’s eyes widened comically large. “Angelo’s? But that...we can’t go _there_.”

“Steve. Listen to me. It’s been far too long since you’ve been out with anyone, especially someone young and attractive and with a functioning brain between their ears. Even if it’s just a ‘business meeting’,” here she made scare quotes with her fingers, “you ought to do it up right.”

“He’ll get the wrong impression if I take him to a place like that.”

Natasha fixed him with a look that communicated volumes. “I think he already has the wrong impression, Steve. Or did you not see him staring at your ass?”

“He was not!” Steve insisted, though it seemed entirely plausible.

She shrugged, rising from the chair. “Do what you want, I’m just saying. You could do a lot worse. He’s an attractive guy.”

Steve scowled. “I don’t appreciate being set up. And definitely not with an _employee_ ,” he added with some force.

“A _consultant_ ,” she retorted in the same tone. “Not the same thing. Not legally, anyway.”

The big blonde scrubbed a hand over his face. “Go back to work before I fire you.”

Natasha scoffed, waving a hand at him. “You couldn’t fire me if you wanted to. This damn place would fall down around your ears.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a grudging smile. She was right and he knew it.

She gave him another knowing smile before slipping out the door, shutting it behind her.  Steve sighed and put his head down on the desk. It was going to be a very long couple of weeks.


	3. Surf & Turf

“He’s taking you to  _ Angelo’s _ ?” Rhodey repeated with more incredulity than Tony thought was strictly necessary. “Jeez, this guy must really want you to blow him.” 

“Hardly. He’s the most uptight representative of old-fashioned values you’ve ever seen. He wouldn’t know a fag if one sashayed up to him on the street and hit him with a boa.” 

Rhodey snorted, angling the X-box controller as he navigated his race car around a particularly challenging curve. 

“Well, at least you’ll eat well for once. Plus you get to poke him with a stick for an entire evening which I know you’ll enjoy.” 

“You do know me so well,” Tony replied, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. It was half sportcoat, half flannel shirt, the two sewn together like Frankenstein’s monster. Rhodey said it was offensive to the eye, but Tony loved it. Underneath he wore his cleanest t-shirt matched with his dirtiest jeans, the ones he wore when changing the oil on his old roadster. Matched with polished combat boots he looked like the epitome of punk rock - or an escaped mental patient. Either way was okay with him. He couldn’t wait to see Rogers’s face when he turned up at a five-star restaurant in this getup. Would those baby blues actually pop out of his head? He was excited to find out. 

“How do I look?” he said, parading himself in front of the television with his arms spread. 

“Get out of the way! Ah, damn it, Tony, you made me crash. Look at this, my car is on fire,” Rhodes whined. “You look like some kind of rachet eighties party clown.” 

“Perfect,” Tony proclaimed. 

 

 

Tony was honestly surprised that the hostess agreed to seat him. She gave him a once-over, then a twice-over, but when he said he was here to meet Steve Rogers she relented. He was led through the fancy, dimly lit restaurant past the entirety of New York’s 1% to a table in the back where his date for the evening was gazing contemplatively out the window. Anyone else would have been looking at their phone, Tony reflected, but here was Steve Rogers calmly contemplating the abyss.

“Hey,” Tony said.

Steve looked up and _stared_. It was immensely satisfying. His mouth opened, shut, opened again and finally made words.

“Good evening,” he said, rising to shake hands. The CEO’s palms were warm and dry, enfolding Tony’s smaller hand like a child’s.

“Nice spot you picked out,” Tony said, sliding into the other side of the booth. “Little fancy for my taste.”

“I didn’t realize,” Rogers said stiffly, opening his menu.

“Come here often, do you?”

Steve looked at him, trying to assess whether or not he was being made fun of. “No, actually. I haven’t been here in years.”

“What did you come here for last time?”

“A date,” Steve said in a clipped voice.

“Ah,” Tony sniffed. “You and the missus don’t get out too much anymore these days? Your brood of adorable and well-behaved rugrats making that difficult?”

The blonde gave him a very satisfying look of disdain. Tony could practically see the scoreboard at this point: Tony, 2; Steve, 0.

“I’m not married,” he said stiffly, looking around with sudden urgency for the waiter.

“You’re joking,” Tony replied.

Steve fixed him with a weary gaze. “Are you always this argumentative?”

“No,” Tony shot back and grinned.

This won him a grudging half-smile which was smothered almost instantly.

“So, if you, the apparent pinnacle of class and physical perfection are not entangled in wedded bliss, what hope is there for the rest of us?”

Steve frowned and did not venture to guess. The waiter appeared, a small man in a dark suit who gazed solicitously between the two of them.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said in a voice so deep it was arresting. “Can I make any recommendations or answer any questions for you?”

“My only question is how fast you can bring me a top shelf whiskey, neat.”

“Excellent. And for you?” The waiter said, turning to Steve.

“I’ll just stick with water,” he said.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

“I don’t drink,” he explained.

“Of course you don’t,” Tony replied and waved the waiter away.

Steve sat back, his dark suit all but disappearing against the plush upholstery. “May I ask you a question?”

“Only if it’s about my sexual orientation or religious beliefs.”

“Have I offended you in some way?”

“Why would you ask me that?” Tony shot back.

“Because it seems to me that you’re being awfully hostile and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.”

“Maybe I’m flirting,” Tony suggested.

The blonde blushed all the way to the tips of his ears. _Well, now this is interesting_ , Tony thought.

“Then I have to say, your technique needs work.”  

“You gonna teach me?” Tony put his chin in his hands and pouted sexily.

“Has anyone told you that you are rather difficult to get along with?”

“Usually they just use the word ‘asshole’. But, and you have to admit that this is so, I’m very charming. And I grow on you. Like a rash. A very charming rash...on your asshole,” Tony concluded with a nod.

The waiter returned with his drink and a basket of warm bread which Tony dug into like his life depended on it. He ordered the surf and turf for dinner, steak rare (“still mooing, if you can swing it”) while Steve stuck with a Cobb salad, dressing on the side. Tony wanted to shake him.

“May I ask _you_ a question?” he said, after downing half his drink in one long swallow.

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you drink?”

Steve glanced away, looking out the window at the darkening horizon. “I, uh...my father drank. It didn’t always make him easy to get along with.”

“Ah, daddy issues. We finally located some common ground.”

Steve glanced back at him. “You too?”

“Oh, honey. I could fill a book. A six-volume set. I have to confess, I’m actually a little surprised you haven’t figured it out for yourself by now.”

The other man cocked his head, confused. “Figured what out?”

“Usually people are able to guess who my old man is all on their own. The last name. Stark? As in-”

“Stark Industries?” Steve said, agog. “You’re not... _Howard_ Starks’s son?”

“Unfortunately for me,” Tony said and went at the whiskey again like he was on a mission.

Steve sat back against the booth looking as stunned as if Tony had just broken a puppy’s neck with his bare hands.

“I don’t know what to say…” he murmured.

“Condolences are always welcome.”

“How is it that you’re...I mean, forgive me if I’m overstepping, but how could you ever be in a position that you needed money?”

Tony scowled into his empty glass, ripping into a piece of bread with barely restrained violence. “That’s always the question, isn’t it? Where’s your trust fund, Tony? Why aren’t you working as an executive at your father’s soulless corporation? I mean, do you really need me to answer that? Surely the news has done a good enough job over the last few years informing people why I want no part of my father’s dirty fortune.”

He was certain that Steve was the kind of man who kept up with current events. Hell, he probably still picked up an honest-to-God newspaper. In recent years, his father’s company had come under fire for illegally smuggling weapons into embargoed nations and selling them to people who might or might not be terrorists  (spoiler alert: they were terrorists) for top dollar. No one had yet been convicted, but the headlines were lousy with news of the hearings, his father’s aging mug plastered across the top byline of every media outlet in the country.

“Honestly, if I were you, I would change my name,” Steve said with surprising candor.

“Don’t think I haven’t considered it. It would break my mother’s heart, though. She’s sentimental like that. Besides, then I would lose all of the satisfaction I get from acting out and dragging my ancestral name through the mud.”

Steve snorted. Tony could see that something in the other man’s demeanor had changed, like this tidbit of knowledge about who Tony really was had shifted the kaleidoscope to a different angle.

Their food arrived and after a few moments of fussing and explaining from the waiter they were able to dig in. Tony ordered a refill on his drink, which arrived with impressive speed.

“My father was in the service,” Steve said quietly.

Tony glanced up. “You an army brat?”

Steve nodded.

“Became a soldier yourself?”

Another nod.

“Well, that explains your physique if nothing else,” Tony mused.

“I have another question,” Steve said after a few bites of his salad.

“You know the rules,” Tony replied.

“Why did you ask for this dinner?”

Tony looked up, meeting Steve’s even gaze across the table. There was no challenge in the question, no threat. The other man just seemed honestly confused.

“I like to know who I’m working with,” he answered.

Steve didn’t seem satisfied. “You could have found that out in the meeting itself,” he didn’t add _if you hadn’t been so difficult_ , though it hung in the air as a certainty.

“You can’t really get to know someone in a conference room. Everyone comes to work in an office with their guard up. They put their armor on at the door. You know that, you work at a place with Shield in the name for fuck’s sake. I wanted to see what you’re _really_ like, when you loosen your tie and let your hair down. Though you’ve done neither so far. And,” he added around a bite of lobster, “you are a conundrum.”

The other man blinked. “I am?”

Tony nodded. “Mmhm. You dress like my grandfather, you don’t seem to own a smartphone, or if you do you aren’t glued to it like everyone else, you speak so politely you’d think your mother was standing over your shoulder...how old are you anyway?”

Steve looked for a moment like he wasn’t going to answer, as though it were somehow an impertinent question, but then said,”Twenty-seven.”

“See, you’re younger than I am, but you don’t act like it. Not at all. You’re built like an underwear model but you carry yourself like an octogenarian.”

“I guess I’m an old-fashioned guy,” Steve said with the ease of someone who had answered this question many times. “And I do have a phone,” he said fishing it out of his jacket pocket, “but I don’t use it very often. It kind of confused me, honestly.”

“How is that possible? You were _born_ in the age of the internet.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve always preferred things that are real, I guess.”

Tony shook his head. “Remarkable.”

Steve’s cheeks colored, which was very satisfying.

They talked business for a while, Steve sharing the backstory of the founding of his company (his military career was over, he was at loose ends, an old family friend offered him the money to start a private business and things just went from there). Tony talked about photography (he quit school and started taking pretty pictures because it wasn’t a real job and that made his father furious). Tony asked too many questions about girlfriends, which Steve effectively dodged. Then the subject of their upcoming work together arose and the rocky road ahead of them reemerged with a thud.  

“Natasha has scouted some locations for the first shoot. I’m sure she’ll have a list for you when you come in on Monday.”

Tony didn’t look up from where he was cutting his steak into bloodsoaked little cubes. “Oh, we’re not going to do it here.”

“We’re not?” Steve asked, forehead wrinkled in disapproval.

“Nope. We’re going to DC. I need veterans and national monuments together. It’s gonna be like war hero hashish.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “Doesn’t that seem a little bit much?”

Tony met his eyes, daring him to contradict again. “No.”

They stared each other down for a moment until Tony finally glanced away. “This is why I demanded creative control,” he grumbled.

“Okay,” Steve said with obvious restraint. “I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

“I guess we will,” came the reply.

Steve dutifully paid the check and Tony made no effort whatsoever to fight him for it. He did, however, say thank you.

“So, I’ll see you on Monday,” Steve said, rising from the booth and buttoning his jacket.

Tony got to his feet a little unsteadily. “Surely you jest. The night is young, soldier. There are other fields of battle that need reconnoitering.”

“Like any good elderly person I like to be tucked into bed by eight thirty,” he replied with a smile.

“Ah, he’s teasing! Finally! The icy veneer cracks,” Tony crowed, congratulating himself. “And yet you aren’t going to let me drag you off into mischief.”

“Next time,” Steve promised with a genuine smile. And, oh, that smile. It was a good one. Tony’s knees felt a little watery and not just from the booze.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Tony insisted.

“I hope you do,” replied the big blonde and _damn_ if those crystal blue eyes weren’t twinkling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who gave kudos and commented on this story so far. Your input is very meaningful to me! More to come very soon!


	4. Googling

Steve didn’t see the peculiar photographer for a few days after that. Well, he did actually  _ see _ him coming and going from the office, but they didn’t interact at all. Tony mostly met with Natasha, working on ideas for the fundraiser and laying out plans for the photo shoot which would take place, as ordered, in Washington DC. If he was honest, Steve was grateful for the distance. He was a big bag of unstable neuro-chemicals at the moment. 

On his way home from their dinner the other night, Steve had found himself reflecting on what might have been different if he had seen it as an actual date, not just a business meeting. For one thing, he probably would have gone along with Tony’s suggestion that they go out on the town afterwards. What would that have entailed, exactly? He wouldn’t put anything past Tony Stark. Tony Stark. Steve had once filed him away in the same mental category as Paris Hilton - entitled young rich people who squandered their lives and fortunes away being idiots. When he was younger, the Stark heir had always been in the news for some boneheaded decision or another, not to mention all the spicy stories about whoever he had been dating at the time. Hadn’t he once dated two of the members of a well-known boy band at the same time? Steve had flushed all over at the thought. 

Then he remembered something else. Something that had been rattling around in the back of his consciousness since Tony first confessed his not-so-secret identity. When he got home he sat in front of his computer and googled “Tony Stark”. His poor eyes were not ready for everything that entry produced.

There were articles, sure, but the  _ pictures _ . Apparently Tony had done a magazine spread for Playgirl in the not-too-distant past and Steve was bombarded with images of the other man 90% naked, holding his camera in front of the only piece left to the imagination. The camera had a very, very large lens affixed to it. Once he’d forced his mouth closed so as not to drool all over the keyboard, his eyes were drawn to another part of Tony’s anatomy. A long jagged scar down the middle of his chest, right over the breastbone. It matched exactly the one he had seen earlier on Tony’s website. So that picture, the one with the soft blue lighting, had been a self-portrait? 

Steve dragged himself away from the dirty pictures, chiding himself for being a pervert, and back to the list of search engine hits. Right near the top was an article with the title: “Ten Years After Kidnapping Stark Father & Son Still Mum”. He clicked it and scanned the article, memory dawning on him. 

“Oh, yeah,” Steve breathed. The article said: 

 

_ Today marks the ten year anniversary of the kidnapping of Tony Stark and still no one is talking. The attack became infamous for a number of reasons, not least of which was the brutality the kidnappers used in subduing the young heir to the Stark Industries fortune. The second was the seemingly callous refusal on the part of the elder Stark to negotiate for his son’s safe return. Some have speculated that the kidnappers, a group of eco-terrorists bent on altering SI’s manufacturing practices which they deemed destructive to the environment, were not aware of Tony Stark’s heart condition when they abducted him. It was only later, when he was already in critical condition, that they took steps to save the life of their own hostage.  _

 

Steve remembered the media frenzy, especially when Howard Stark had refused to so much as speak to the kidnappers, against the advice of law enforcement and the outright pleading of his own wife. Now he  _ knew _ the person that this had all happened to. Tony Stark was not a remote celebrity floating around on an untouchable cloud of wealth and privilege. He was a gosh-darn  _ employee _ . 

He sat back at his desk, staring at the screen and trying to imagine what it must have felt like for Tony. Held in a filthy basement for weeks on end, barely staying alive, and being told at every turn that no one was coming for him. Eventually, though, someone had. Steve remembered this part. A particularly shrewd FBI agent had followed up on a hunch and caught one of the terrorists while he was out buying groceries for the compound. He had been thoroughly interrogated and ended up squealing on the entire operation, including where they were holding Tony Stark. Tony had been rushed to the hospital where the mediocre means the terrorists had used to try and keep him alive were stabilized and he was put back together. Howard Stark had told the press that he had faith in the FBI and knew that they would find his son the whole time. 

_ Not to mention you didn’t have to shell out ransom money or change your business practices, _ Steve thought angrily. 

He went back to the web, perusing the rest of the top hits for Tony’s name and his eyes grew wide. “Tony Stark Sex Tape Leaked” flashed at him as though it were written in neon. 

“Don’t you dare,” he told himself out loud, “he’s an employee.” 

But his finger hovered traitorously over the mouse button. And then it clicked. 

  
  


A knock on his office door startled Steve so badly he splashed coffee all over his desk and his own lap. 

“Ah, shoot,” he murmured. “Come on in.” 

Tony sauntered in, glancing at Steve who was currently mopping his crotch with a kleenex. He smirked. 

“Don’t let me interrupt you.” 

Steve flushed. “Coffee. I spilled. Hi,” he added awkwardly. 

“Natasha told me to tell you on my way out that we leave for DC on Thursday. She thought you might want to come with for some unknowable reason.” 

“Yeah, she’s right. Thanks.” 

“Are you really that much of a control freak?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Steve threw the coffee-soaked tissues in the trash. “No, not generally. But this...is important. She told you that, right?” 

Tony nodded. “She didn’t have to. I googled you and all of the associated financial woes were only a couple of mouse clicks away. This is your hail-mary, isn’t it?” 

Though it pained him, Steve nodded. 

“Well, you’ve got the right people working on it. Natasha is sharp. Scary, but sharp.” 

Steve chuckled. “Yeah.” 

He was staring at Tony, remembering the way he had looked on that grainy home movie, all muscle and sweat. Steve felt his cock swelling in his pants and quickly turned himself away, rolling his lap safely under the desk. 

“Well, guess I’ll see you on Thursday,” he said, pretending to be suddenly engrossed in his email. 

“Guess so,” Tony replied, his voice tight. Steve did not turn to see his expression and Tony let himself out a few moments later. 


	5. I Don't Drink

“Did you know?” Steve asked Natasha when she sat down next to him at the airport terminal holding a bagel. “I mean, that Tony Stark was  _ the _ Tony Stark when you suggested him?” 

She nodded, looking at him like he was a particularly stupid child and therefore an object of pity. “Of course. Didn’t you?” 

“Uh, no,” he answered honestly and stole a piece of her bagel. She allowed it, but he knew that it would only happen once. 

“Where is he?” she asked, glancing at the clock on her cell phone. “The flight is going to start boarding any minute.” 

Steve checked his own device for the hundredth time and found no new notifications. “I don’t know. I’ve tried calling, texting, both multiple times. He’s not answering.” 

Natasha’s jaw tightened. “The photo session is first thing tomorrow morning. We-” 

“I know,” Steve interrupted, holding up his hand in a peaceful gesture. “If he’s not here in the next five minutes you go on ahead and we’ll follow on the next flight.” 

“There won’t be another one today,” she said. 

Steve sighed. “Then we’ll drive. It’s only a few hours.” 

His coworker looked for a moment like she might argue, but he could see her relent. “All right. Don’t be late,” she chided. “We’re already in enough trouble.” 

“We’ll both be there on time, I promise,” he said. 

The five minutes passed, Natasha finished her breakfast and dusted her hands off, rising. “I guess I’ll see you over there,” she said. 

“We’ll be there. I’ll make sure of it.” 

“Have a nice time,” she said in a meaningful tone and rolled her suitcase towards the boarding gate. 

Steve rolled his eyes, but his heart gave a funny little leap. 

  
  


Tony rolled in almost an hour later, a half-zippered duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He was wearing the same clothes he had left the office in the night before and smelled like a gym sock full of vomit. He knew that he was a wreck and that he would no doubt be the object of scorn. He tried to steel himself for the disapproving expression he was sure Steve would be wearing, but no amount of preparation made any difference when faced with the real thing. 

“Before you say anything,” he said, holding his hands up, “I have a very good excuse.” 

“The dog ate your boarding pass?” Steve said, frowning. 

“Good one, no. It’s better than that. Hey, is it casual Friday? You’re not wearing a suit,” Tony observed, noting Steve’s blue polo shirt and pressed khakis. 

“You missed the flight,” Steve told him in a voice that was cool without being too angry. 

“I realize that. There’ll be another one.” 

“Not today. I rented a car. C’mon. I’m driving.” 

“I do love a man who takes charge,” Tony said and followed Steve inside the airport. 

By the time they got the paperwork all sorted out and were actually on the road dusk was settling in. Tony stared out the passenger window at the sunset, doing his best to stay awake. This morning, when Rhodey had been doing his best to get him out of bed and to the airport on time, his best friend had accused him of being a master of self-sabotage. 

“It’s one thing to screw yourself over, man, but another to do this to someone else,” Rhodes had yelled through Tony’s locked bedroom door. 

He could tell that Steve was angry with him, disappointed as well more than likely. And he deserved it. He usually did, if he was honest. He also knew that the big man was waiting for an explanation even as he adjusted the mirrors and fiddled with the air conditioning. Finally, Tony sighed and turned in his seat to face the music. 

“So, you obviously haven’t seen the news today,” he observed. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Steve said in a clipped voice, staring straight ahead. 

“It’s all over the newspapers. My dad was indicted last night. I don’t know how many counts of which felonies, but there are lots of them. Enough that he’ll spend the rest of his life in jail if he’s convicted. Plus he was remanded without bail because, you know, rich people and fleeing the country and whatnot. So, it’s not really even a one hundred percent chance that he’ll make it to trial.” 

Steve glanced at him, eyes softening. “Really?” 

“Yup. Mom has been calling me non-stop for the last twenty-three hours crying hysterically and asking what we’re going to do.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

“I already did what I planned to do about it, which was get wasted and make very bad decisions. Check!” He cried weakly. “Aside from that I am planning to do exactly fuck-all.” 

“You’re not--” 

“What the hell else would you have me do, Rogers? He’s got lawyers, the most highly-paid team of them the world has ever seen. He’s got friends in high places. My dad doesn’t need my help, not in this.” 

“What about your Mom?” Steve asked. 

“She knew what she was doing when she hitched her wagon to that son of a bitch,” Tony responded darkly. 

Steve was quiet, hands on the wheel at 10 and 2. “So your plan is to drink yourself into a stupor every night until the situation resolves itself?” 

“Pretty much!” 

And there was that frown of disapproval that had been so long in coming. 

“You said you were in the service, right?” Tony asked archly. 

Steve nodded. 

“And you’re telling me that you never tied one on? Got together with a bunch of your pals” 

“I told you, I-” 

“Don’t drink,” Tony interrupted him back, “I know. Gosh, it must be so hard to be perfect. Just exhausting, I’m sure.” 

He crossed his arms and prepared to settle in for a good sulk. Instead, Steve started speaking. 

“When I was ten my mother died from breast cancer. It took a long time and was very...painful for her. When she was gone, my dad went too. He hardly ever came home, stayed out all night drinking with his friends. I took care of myself the best I could and tried to make sure he was all right too whenever he came home. One night, he really tied one on and decided that he was going to liberate a humvee and take his buddies for a joyride. They ended up driving straight off a cliff and rolling. My dad and his friend Bob died, the other guy lived but was paralyzed from the waist down.” 

“Jesus,” Tony breathed. 

Steve continued, his voice growing in volume and intensity. “I went into the foster care system, wound up at a group home in Brooklyn. My best friend there, he was like my brother, he enlisted with me in the army. Bucky was his name. Best man I ever knew, but he had a real problem with alcohol too. I tried to help him, tried to keep him straight, but he just started sneaking around and doing it behind my back. One day we get sent out on a recon mission and I can tell right away Buck is three sheets to the wind. I try to convince him to stay back, but he just won’t listen. We’re climbing his real steep rock, trying to get to the top so we can have a better view and Bucky’s leg slips. He loses his grip and before I can grab him he goes down, all thirty feet, all the way to the bottom.” 

Steve’s tone reached a crescendo and he stopped, taking a breath. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard it was a wonder the damn thing didn’t bend. Tony didn’t need to ask what happened to Bucky after he fell during that climb - it was written all over the other man’s face. 

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but found he didn’t have the words. He thought of his own father, sitting in a cold jail cell wearing an orange jumpsuit and sighed. 

“I guess we know why neither of us has any kids of our own,” he mused. 

“I’m gay,” Steve announced. He glanced at Tony out of the corner of his eye as though he expected his passenger to throw a punch. 

“Ah, well, that too then,” Tony amended.  _ There is a God _ , he thought to no one in particular, his stomach suddenly full of little pirouetting butterflies. “I’m what you might call heteroflexible. I’m attracted to people, not body parts.” 

Steve nodded slowly, like it didn’t really make sense to him but he wasn’t going to argue. 

“Though,” Tony said innocently. “I am partial to an absolutely gargantuan cock.” 

The driver gave the most satisfying little gasp. “Jeez, Tony. You’re going to make me drive off the road.” 

“That’s the idea,” he said wickedly. 


	6. Working Relationship

Steve could never have predicted the companionable conversation that passed between them on the road to DC. The five-hour drive simply flew by, and he remained unaffected by the bumper-to-bumper traffic they sat in for much of the commute. Instead, he found he wanted the time to stretch out further so he could keep talking to Tony, keep listening to Tony. He found himself genuinely laughing at the other man’s jokes and deeply interested in how Tony’s mind worked. He was a brilliant thinker, of that there could be on doubt, and he could have excelled in any field he chose to work in. Steve found himself talking more than he had in years, sharing his thoughts on politics, art, music, and other subjects he wasn’t even aware he had an opinion on. It was the first reprieve he had found from his self-imposed isolation, the only real companionship he had found since returning from the service. He even let Tony talk him into eating a greasy cheeseburger from a Hardee’s drive-thru. 

For his part, Tony seemed to have arrived at some greater understanding of Steve and had relaxed considerably. At one point he slid his feet out of their loafers and rested his bare feet up on the dashboard. Steve found that sight more erotic than he had any right to. 

By the time they finally reached their hotel it was almost ten. Steve pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine, grabbing for his phone. 

“I’m just gonna let Natasha know that we’ve arrived.” 

“Okay,” Tony said and slid his feet back into their shoes. He sat awkwardly while Steve texted, seeming unsure about whether or not to leave. “This was...nice, you know. Riding with you. And I’m sorry that I made us miss the flight. I realized I didn’t say that earlier which was definitely a dick move.” 

Steve glanced up at him, face illuminated by the little screen. “Yeah, me too. I mean, I enjoyed myself. And don’t worry about it. Turned out to be more fun this way,” he added with a self-conscious little smile. 

They both got out and claimed their bags, Tony hauling his camera bag in addition to the giant duffle. Steve was very conscious of their proximity and of his desire to touch, kiss, hold, and basically do anything else with Tony he thought might be permitted.  _ Ask him up to your room _ , his horny brain prompted making him blush.  

“You know,” Tony began and Steve jumped.  _ Could he be thinking the same thing?  _ “Would you ask Natasha to pick up some extra SD cards? I want to make backups as we go tomorrow. “ 

_ Evidently not.  _ Steve tried to conceal his disappointment as he nodded and sent a quick message. Natasha wrote back immediately and said she would pick some up first thing in the morning. 

“Weather looks good for tomorrow,” he mentioned as they made their way into the lobby and waited for another customer to finish checking in. Tony nodded and didn’t look at him, his attention everywhere but on Steve.

“Can you think of anything else you might need?” Steve asked, realizing that he was babbling, but unwilling to let the conversation end. It had been such a great evening it seemed impossible to let it end on such an awkward note. 

“No,” Tony answered simply and Steve let it end at that. It didn’t seem that he was going to have any luck connecting further.  

They both checked in and got their room keys. Steve fought the urge to say or do something stupid as they climbed into the elevator together. An elderly woman was already waiting, but she grabbed for the door just before it shut.  “Forgot my glasses,” she said by way of explanation and shuffled out, leaving the two of them alone.  

Tony glanced up at Steve, his eyes dark and beautiful. Steve made an effort to take a deep breath and quiet his hammering heart. The doors slid closed and before he knew what was happening he had dropped his bag and had his arms full of Tony Stark. He couldn't be sure who had initiated what, but it hardly mattered now that Tony’s lips were on his, hot and insistent, his beard scratching along Steve's chin. He buried his fingers in Tony’s dark hair, pulling him closer and wringing a moan from that clever mouth. Steve pushed him back against the wall of the elevator and kissed him like he meant it, tongues tangling and breath coming up short for both of them.  

When the doors opened they parted, staring at one another.  

“What now?” Tony said playfully, running his fingers along the side of Steve's neck and making him shiver.  

The big man knew what he wanted, what his body was crying for with every cell, but he also knew what the right thing was to do. He sighed. “I hate to say this, but we’ve got a big day tomorrow and…you’re still technically an employee.” 

Tony frowned, kicking his foot out to keep the elevator door open.  “Anyone ever tell you that you’re not much fun?” 

“Constantly,” Steve confessed, grabbing his bag and heading out into the hallway.  

“So, we just ignore the fact that we have the red-hots for one another and continue onward like good little worker bees?” Tony asked,  following behind him. His tone was joking and he didn’t seem to be criticizing, though Steve would have understood if he had.  

He stopped suddenly,  glancing around the deserted hallway. With two steps he had backed Tony up against the door to a random room and was very much in his personal space,  hands resting on the door beside Tony’s head.  “Talk to me tomorrow when your contract is fulfilled.” 

Tony’s eyes danced with laughter. “When I'm no longer on the payroll?” 

“Conflict of interest will be resolved,” Steve breathed,  ducking his head so his lips rested on the shell of the other man’s ear. “No one could say I coerced you.” 

“I wish you would,” Tony moaned. He shifted his hips so that his election prodded Steve's leg,  hot and insistent. “Are you really going to make me wait an entire day?” 

“Yes,” he breathed against Tony’s ear in a huff of hot air.  

“You are a villain, sir.”

“You can leave a bad review on Yelp.”

Tony laughed. “Let’s just see how tomorrow goes first.” 

Steve pulled back and smiled, “Which part?”

The photographer grinned back and kissed him again, gently this time, but full of promise, “You leave that up to me.” 

It took an enormous amount of effort for Steve to pull away, but he did. He and Tony said goodnight to each other outside their rooms across the hall and he shut the door behind him. Leaning against it he breathed deeply, shutting his eyes and pressing a hand against the front of his khakis where his dick was practically begging for attention.  He waited a moment to see if Tony would come knocking and when he didn’t Steve sternly informed his body that it was time to calm down and got himself ready for bed. 


	7. Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be smut here, y'all. Fair warning.

It was so easy to lose himself when he was working. It felt sometimes like he became the camera, working with it as an extension of his mind and body rather than a separate tool. Tony crouched, lining up the shot and instructed the model to angle his body a little to the left. “Now, look up,” he said and took a couple of shots.  

The day was gorgeous, clear and bright but with just enough cloud cover that there weren’t shadows thrown every which way. Natasha had lined up a series of models, actual veterans that America's Shield had worked with, none of whom had ever posed for photographs before. It took some work to get them comfortable so that they no longer looked like they were posing for the camera. Tony joked with the old-timers and even offered to get a bottle of whiskey if they didn’t stop being so stiff. His humor combined with Steve's easygoing manner did the trick and eventually the models settled down one by one and let Tony move them where he wanted.

They were in front of the Washington Monument, people milling around on all sides. Tony knelt to one side of his current model, an older man with a serious facial scar who was confined to a wheelchair. “Look straight ahead,” Tony said and snapped a few pictures. He glanced down at the screen and smiled to himself. He adjusted his stance a little, moving underneath the model so he could see the top of the monument in the background. He pressed a button and the camera switched focus, shifting to the monument in the background. He had tweaked this camera himself, installing some upgrades that were particular to his style and he was glad of the shortcuts today with so much work left to do.

After he got a few more pictures he was happy with he stood up and dusted off his jeans, “Okay, I think that’s good. Let’s move on.”

Natasha came up and glanced over his shoulder as he went through the pictures from the last few minutes. He looked back at her and she nodded, smiling. “These are great,” she told him,  then plucked the camera out of his hands before he could protest. “Take a break.”

He immediately glanced at where Steve was standing talking with another model,  a younger man who was missing his left arm. He was back in his dark suit, hair swept back from his forehead. He looked in Tony’s direction and smiled broadly, which made the other man feel all funny in the stomach. _This is just getting sad,_ he thought,  but couldn’t be bothered to care. An anticipatory thrill went through him at the promise Steve had made for later that night, the memory of those big hands on him, grabbing his hair, holding him against the wall of the elevator. Suddenly Tony really needed a drink of water.

 _Focus,_ he reminded himself. _There’s still work to be done._

 

It felt like a privilege to watch Tony while he was working. He approached each shot with a singular focus, his dark eyes clear and sharp. He moved with precision, but was patient and kind with the models, positioning them carefully and joking to keep them comfortable. Steve had only glanced at a few of the shots so far, but he was utterly impressed. There was a good chance that with Tony’s help they were going to pull this fundraiser off. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders at the thought. He hadn’t realized how worried he was about the future of the company until it occurred to him that the burden might be lifted in a few weeks. He watched Tony with their female model, moving around her, giving directions and found himself lost in a fantasy about being on the receiving end of that singular focus. Tony gazing up at him with that arresting gaze and murmuring, “Fuck me.”

“Steve?” Natasha said from beside him and he jumped, his cheeks coloring.

“Yeah? Yes?” He stammered,  clearing his throat.  She gave him a knowing look and offered him a cup of coffee.

“Oh, thanks. How's our artist?” He said, trying and failing to keep his tone light.

“Deep in his work. It’s coming out great.”

“I’m glad.”

When he glanced to the side he found the redhead staring at him. “What?” he demanded, squirming under her unflinching gaze.

“I can’t device who is more far gone, you or Stark,” she said conversationally

Steve coughed and took a sip of coffee. He didn’t say it out loud, but he suspected that the answer to that question was: Him.

 

“Whew,” Tony sighed,  throwing his gear into the backseat of the rental car.  They had run out the daylight on this shoot and now it was full dark, the Lincoln Memorial lit up like a Christmas tree in the distance. He shut the door and stilled as he felt two big hands on his shoulders, kneading gently. “Oh, Lord, don’t stop,” he sighed,  leaning back against Steve's solid frame.  

The big man worked his fingers into the muscles of Tony’s shoulders, releasing the tension they had held onto all day. “You did great work today,” he murmured against the side of Tony’s head.  

“It was actually fun.”

“I’m glad,” Steve rumbled and just like that Tony was trembling, all the blood rushing south.

“Should we get out of here?”

Steve nodded, smoothing his hands along Tony’s back. “You hungry?”

Tony considered. “Yeah, actually, but not hungry enough to delay this,” he gestured between the two of them, “any further.”

The big man grinned, making the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle. Tony feared for a moment that he might actually swoon. He turned in Steve's arms and kissed him, letting his fingers run across the other man’s smooth cheeks. Steve sighed and leaned against him, trapping him between the bigger man’s body and the car. Tony wound his arms around Steve's neck and deepened the embrace, tangling their tongues.  

When they parted, breathing heavily, Tony slipped his hand into the pocket of Steve's pants,  rooting around until he found the car keys. His knuckles brushed the other man’s erection and he gasped.

“I’m driving,” Tony announced, jingling the keys.

“Is that so?” Steve asked, his eyes glossy but still bearing a predatory glint that made Tony feel weak in the knees.  

“You won’t go fast enough,” he informed the other man and pulled the door open. “And I am not going to wait another goddamn _minute.”_

 

Steve's heart pounded all the way back to their hotel, his mind racing with all of the things he felt he ought to be saying. _I should tell him how long it’s been,_ he thought. _I'll be so out of practice._

Then, at a stoplight, Tony reached over and seized him by the back of the neck, dragging him across the center console for a searing kiss. After that, Steve found he couldn’t really think much of anything at all.

They pulled in the parking lot and Tony cut the engine. He twisted in his seat and looked at Steve with amusement on his face. “You didn’t get cold feet, did you?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m a soldier, remember?”

“Oh, trust me, I didn’t forget. I’ve entertained several very vivid fantasy involving your dress uniform.”

Steve felt his cheeks get hot and it made Tony laugh,  which got him chuckling as well.

“So, this is the part where I ask you what you like to do.,” Tony said in a low voice, reaching across to rub his hand along Steve's thigh.  His touch felt electric, leaving a little trail of shocks along his skin.

“Uh… “ Steve found himself at a loss.

“I like to get it out of the way before things get all hot and heavy,” Tony continued. Steve was reminded of the disparity between their sexual experiences. He could count on one hand the number of people he had ever had sex with and he suspected that Tony would need all of his fingers and toes to even come close to his own number of partners.  Insecurity bubbled to the surface again and he glanced away.

Tony’s hand strayed higher,  brushing across his crotch where Steve's cock took an immediate interest in the proceedings, whatever his emotions had to say on the subject. He groaned, laying his head back against the seat as Tony massaged him through his pants.

“Are you a top?” Tony asked in a low voice.

Steve nodded, eyes squeezed shut.

Tony moaned happily and started to pull down Steve's fly, leaning in closer. “That is excellent news. I like a good rough fuck, Steve. That sound like something you can do?”

He nodded, groaning loudly as Tony pulled out his dick and stroked it with his palm. “Oh, yeah.”

“I think we’re gonna get along just great,” Tony whispered in his ear, leaning across the console. They kissed, Steve's tongue plundering Tony’s mouth as the other man’s hand worked quickly on his lap.

“Agh,” Steve cried, pulling back. “You’re gonna have to stop that or I’ll… it’ll all be over right here.”

Tony gave him a triumphant grin. “Your place or mine?”

They were both out of the car and heading for the hotel so fast it probably set some kind of land speed record.  

 

Getting Steve out of that stuffy suit was more satisfying that Tony had expected, and he had really anticipated that he would enjoy it. Seeing the big man in just his shirtsleeves, his pants wide open, his head thrown back was an image Tony hoped he would never forget.  He almost felt sorry that he didn’t have his camera with him, this was a Kodak moment if ever there was one. He gazed up in time to see Steve looking down at him, eyes heavy-lidded, one hand still tangled in Tony’s hair. He maintained eye contact as he sank his mouth back down on Steve's cock again, taking his time and letting his tongue drag along the underside. Steve _growled_ at him, making Tony’s head swim.

Tony worked himself back and forth for a while, letting his hands explore Steve's abs between the open wings of his white shirt. God, he was _built_. Tony pulled back and rubbed the sensitive head of Steve's dick against his lips, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Oh, God,” Steve moaned, tightening his fist in the other man’s hair to the point it was almost painful. “You… I’m too close. Come up here, “ he demanded. As Steve had gotten comfortable he had become progressively more bossy, an attribute that had only served to arouse his partner further.

Tony had stripped down the moment they got behind closed doors and stood before Steve now naked as the day he was born. Steve looked at him with such reverence, like he was a prize, an unparalleled beauty. It made Tony feel self-conscious, especially about the jagged ugly scar down the middle of his chest . he pressed closer to Steve in an effort to hide it and was rewarded by being encircled in a pair of warm arms. Steve kissed him tenderly, releasing him only so that he could shrug out of his shirt exposing the waves of muscle along his upper arms.

“You are so hot,” Tony sighed against his mouth.

“Get on the bed,” Steve replied.

The photographer did as he was bid, settling back against the pillows while Steve shucked his pants, underwear, and socks exposing that perfect body bit by tantalizing bit. Tony’s cock was pressed against his stomach, drooling a steady stream of precome. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this turned on. Hell, he didn’t think he had _ever_ been with someone he wanted as much as he did Steve.

The bigger man hovered over him, pressing him into the bed with the weight of his body and Tony moaned, grinding his hardon against Steve’s flat stomach. The blonde bent down and kissed him again, then slowly took hold of Tony’s wrists and brought them over his head, pinning them. Steve gazed at his face, no doubt looking for any signs of concern, and Tony just moaned, “Yes,” as loudly as he could. Steve cupped Tony’s fingers, molding them to the iron frame of the headboard so that he was holding on with both hands.

“Don’t let go unless you want me to stop,” he commanded in a low voice that sent shivers through his captive.

“Yes, sir,” Tony murmured, intending to be cheeky but ending up rather intense. In any case, Steve seemed to like the result. He bent and devoured Tony’s mouth, kissing and licking and even nipping at Tony’s full lower lip with his teeth. Then he ducked his head and continued his exploration, licking and kissing the side of the other man’s neck which made him keen like an animal.

“Beautiful,” Steve said against his skin, pressing kisses to his sternum as his fingers tweaked Tony’s nipples making him gasp. “You are amazing.”

“I’m not gonna make it much longer,” Tony confessed in a shaky voice. “You’re...kind of ruining me.”

The expression of triumphant joy that crossed Steve’s face was something that Tony hoped he would never forget. The bigger man ducked down and pressed a kiss right to the center of Tony’s ugly scar, a deliberate gesture that left him reeling. Then he turned his attention to Tony’s nipples, kissing and sucking until they were each hard little peaks. Tony was out of his mind, writhing around on the bed, thrusting his hips against Steve’s stomach, tossing his dark head back and forth.

“I like watching you fall apart,” Steve told him.

“I bet you’d like it even better if you were fucking me.”

“Do you have lube?”

Tony almost reached for it, then jerked his hand back to the headboard, which made Steve smile. He plucked it off the bedside table and squirreled it away inside one of those big hands and went back to making Tony lose his goddamn mind.

The thing about Steve was that he paid attention. Most people had their standard sexual routine, Tony found, things that they knew were popular with most audiences and therefore repeated over and over unless you instructed them otherwise. Steve, however, was experimenting and when he got a result he liked (making Tony swear, gasp, or even yell) he filed the results away for future use. When he got down to actually sucking Tony’s cock the darker man felt that he might actually die from pleasure. Steve catalogued his every little response and adjusted his technique, favoring his tongue instead of harsh sucking, which was exactly what Tony preferred. Shaking, sweating, and gripping the headboard hard enough his knuckles were white, Tony reminded Steve yet again that he wasn’t made of stone and he was going to get a mouth full of something salty if he didn’t change tactics.

That was when he felt the lubed-up finger probing at his ass. It was very gentle at first, just circling the sensitive ring of muscle and making Tony curse. Then, bit by bit, it pressed inside and Tony arched his back, forcing his dick further into Steve’s mouth. That thick finger fucked him lazily for a while before another joined in and Tony felt his balls draw up tight against his body.

“I’m gonna come,” he panted.

Steve responded by pounding his fingers against Tony’s prostate, making him see stars. He was coming, bellowing, before he even knew what was happening. Steve dutifully swallowed it all, milking the last of his orgasm until Tony complained about being oversensitive and he pulled off. He did not, however, withdraw his fingers, which were still moving around inside of him prepping him for what was to come.

“Ah, I feel like a teenager again,” Tony said, chagrined.

“You’ll come again,” Steve promised and that alone was enough to make him half-hard in record time.

Steve loomed over him, gently withdrawing his fingers. He coated his own considerable organ with more lube, watching Tony with half-lidded eyes as he did so. Tony wanted to run his hands all over that incredible body, feel the sweat that was beading on Steve’s chest, lick away the trail of precome from his inner thigh, but he decided to be a good boy and do what he was told. He had an idea that Steve would make being good very rewarding indeed.

“You ready?” Steve asked in a husky voice, leaning over him to grab a condom.

“Oh, yeah,” Tony responded immediately, spreading his legs. “Give it to me.”

Steve adjusted Tony, moving him where he wanted, which brought Tony’s cock back to full arousal, and pressed against him. He moaned as he moved inside, inch after inch of his monster dick swallowed up by Tony’s body. His hands gripped Tony’s thighs hard enough to bruise and they were both groaning now, moving together slowly as they got used to the sensation. Then Steve looked up, meeting his eyes, and said, “I’m going to fuck you.”

Tony moaned and nodded, helpless to do anything else. He tossed his head when Steve plowed into him, his cock assaulting Tony’s prostate. He set a bruising pace, slamming his hips against Tony’s ass hard enough to move him up the bed so that the top of his head was pressed against the headboard between his hands.

“Fuck, yeah!” Tony cried.

“You like that?” Steve panted.

“It’s amazing, Steve. Fuck me.”

“You’re mine tonight, Stark.”

“Yeah...yeah. Fuck, you’re gonna make me come again.”

In response, Steve adjusted his angle and battered Tony’s prostate. He clenched his ass around Steve’s cock, making him moan and start thrusting like he was getting serious. Steve’s sweaty hair fell into his eyes, the cords in his neck standing out, and the muscles of his arms flexing as he took hold of Tony’s body like it was his prize possession. Tony threw his head back and came a second time, come shooting from his cock like a geyser. Steve followed a moment behind, pounding into him twice more before orgasm ripped through him, making him roar like a mythical creature. He bent over, panting, and held Tony tight to him. His hands came up and rubbed Tony’s wrists, as though freeing him from invisible bondage, and the smaller man wrapped his arms around Steve’s sweaty back in return.

They held each other for a few minutes, Steve pausing only long enough to pull of the condom and toss it in the garbage. He looked at Tony with so much gratitude it made him uncomfortable. He reached up and pulled Steve in for a kiss, trying to wipe away that reverent expression.

“That was incredible,” Steve said against his ear.

“Tell me about it,” he replied.

“Can we do it again?”

Tony stared. “Are we quite sure you’re real and I didn’t just dream you up?”

Steve chuckled and kissed him soundly.


	8. Unlocked

Steve was half-asleep when he heard a phone vibrating somewhere in the room. “S’that mine?” he asked muzzily, sitting up. Tony, who was draped across his back made an unhappy noise.

    He crawled out of bed, to further protest from his lover, and rooted around in the piles of discarded clothes until he found the culprit. It was Tony’s phone, buzzing in the back pocket of his abandoned jeans. Steve grabbed it and glanced down at the display. He froze, a wash of disbelief coursing through him like he had been dunked in cold water. _Wifey_ was the name on the display and the picture that flashed on the screen was of Tony and a red-haired woman with their arms wrapped around one another. The redhead was wearing a wedding dress.

    “Did you get it?” Tony asked, popping up from the covers. His hair was sticking up at all angles and he looked adorable. Steve stared at him, his jaw tightening.

    “Yeah, it’s yours,” he ground out, tossing the phone on the bed. It had stopped ringing.

    Tony looked confused, then picked up the device and all at once comprehension dawned on his face. He looked for a moment more heartbroken than Steve had ever seen him, which made his own chest ache painfully. Because that meant that it was true, this wasn’t just some sort of misunderstanding. Still, he couldn't help himself.

    “Tony, are you _married_?”

    He ran a hand through his dark hair, which only made it more disheveled. Tony opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, which told Steve all he needed to know. Finally he said in a miserable little voice, “A bit.”

    “Fuck,” Steve growled and began yanking on his clothes.

    “Okay, hold on. Hold on,” Tony began, scrambling out of bed. “It’s not what you think, okay?”

    “Oh, I’m sure it’s not,” Steve spat, zipping up his pants. He gathered the rest of his clothes in his arms, just wanting to get out of here as fast as possible. Tony put a hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off violently. “Don’t touch me!”

    “I get what this looks like,” Tony yelled, “just hear me out!”

    “Why, so you can lie to me?”

    Tony looked stricken. “When have I ever lied to you? When?”

    “When you failed to mention that you have a wife before taking me to bed.”

    “That’s not technically a lie,” Tony pointed out, then reached for him again as Steve turned to walk out. “Hang on! Will you just listen?”

    Outside a car alarm sounded in the distance which triggered some latent memory in Steve’s brain. He stopped, trying to recall what it was that troubled him. Tony took this as a sign of reconciliation and began babbling at him.

    “Shut up,” Steve commanded.

    “Excuse me?” Tony shot back, bristling.

    “Did you lock the car?” he demanded, meeting Tony’s eyes.

    “What? Of course. I…” Tony trailed off and suddenly they were of one mind. “Oh, _fuck_.”

   

 

    Tony stared in disbelief at the empty backseat. Behind him, Steve was pacing back and forth shirtless and endlessly running his hands through his hair.

“Everything!” the blonde yelled. “It was all on there.”

“Fuck,” Tony said for what was probably the hundredth time.

“I don’t know why you’re just staring in there like the answer is going to appear,” Steve said caustically and slammed the door. The sound of it echoed like a gunshot in the silent parking lot.

Tony was reminded that on top of losing all of his accessories, an entire day’s work, and his beloved camera that Steve still thought he was a married guy stepping out on his wife. Which, he kind of was, but not in the way it seemed. He still hadn’t explained himself.

“I know you’re pissed off. I am too, believe me-”

“How could you just leave the car unlocked like that? At least if someone had broken in we might have a case with the insurance company, but this... “

“It’s still theft, isn’t it?” Tony shot back, annoyed that all of the blame was being placed squarely on him. As he recalled they had both been itching to get upstairs as fast as possible.

“Our case isn’t nearly as strong now,” Steve sighed. “I really thought we were going to save the company today.”

He sounded so wounded, so defeated, that Tony put a hand on his shoulder without thinking about it. Steve's skin was chilled. He looked up, meeting Tony’s eyes and angrily shoved him away.

“You don’t understand,” Tony started, but was interrupted by another shove as Steve pushed him into the side of the car.

“Save it,” the big man growled, “I don't want to hear anything you have to say.  I should have known better than to… “

“What?” Tony demanded, hurt as well as angry now. “Sleep with me?”

“Trust you.”

“You know what, fuck you. I trusted you first. I knew something like this would happen,” Tony said, furious now and taking whatever parting shots came to him. “You’re not even going to hear me out are you, you arrogant prick?”

Steve started to walk away, hands buried in the pockets of his pants.

“Yeah, good. Just walk away. Don’t try to help or actually understand or anything, just take off. Thanks! Nice knowing you,” Tony yelled after him, his voice breaking. “Fuck!” He yelled, punching the roof of the rental car. “What am I going to do now?”

The space around him, dark and empty, did not provide an answer.  


	9. Secrets

Sam was already in the conference room when Steve arrived, looking as distressed as the other man had ever seen him. 

“That bad?” he asked, choosing to hover anxiously instead of taking a seat. 

Sam spread his hands. “This was our last shot. We poured the very last reserves of our budget out here, Steve. We don’t have anything left. I don’t know what to tell you. We’ll have to find some other way to raise awareness about the fundraising event that doesn’t cost anything.” 

Steve sighed. “You don’t sound optimistic.” 

“That’s because I’m not.” 

The door opened and Natasha swept in holding a manilla envelope. She looked at both of them and actually laughed. 

“You two look like someone ran over your dog,” she observed, upending the envelope onto the large table. Two small SD cards bounced out. 

“What’s that?” Sam asked, picking up one of them and holding it between his forefinger and thumb. 

“Backups,” she said simply. 

Steve stared at her in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” 

Natasha shook her head. “I downloaded Tony’s SD card onto two backups during the shoot. It’s all on there.” 

“You’re a genius!” Steve cried and hugged her. She seemed startled and perhaps a little uncomfortable, but returned the embrace after a moment. “How would I ever get by without you?” 

“You know, you could just stop asking me that question and give me a raise instead.”

“We’re out of money, honey,” Sam piped up. He was grinning too, staring at the little memory card like it was a lifesaving serum. 

“Not for long,” Steve replied. 

“Of course this doesn’t solve any of Tony’s problems,” Natasha observed in a casual tone. Steve felt a pinch of guilt. 

“I filed a police report, maybe his gear will turn up,” Steve mused. 

“I wouldn’t count on it. Stuff like that usually doesn’t,” Sam said. “I had the stereo taken out of my rental car once and the cop who responded said that the odds of recovering it were like two hundred to one. I guess the bad guys usually resell the goods immediately and they get lost in the shuffle. It’s a bummer for Tony, but he’ll be all right. Not like he doesn’t have the means to get a replacement.” 

Steve frowned. The news about Howard Stark’s indictment had been all over the papers that morning. The jury hadn’t even taken a full hour to pronounce him guilty and now he would serve out what amounted to three life sentences. He couldn’t imagine how Tony was dealing with the news.  _ Probably dodging calls from his mother and drinking himself into a stupor, _ Steve guessed. Still, it had to be hard on him.

“So, you want to take a look at these together?” Natasha asked, breaking into his reverie. 

He nodded. “Let’s.” 

  
  


“These are incredible,” Sam said in unselfconscious wonder. They had plugged the memory card into the conference room’s projector and were going through the shots that Natasha had selected as the most likely candidates for their marketing effort. “I mean, seriously.” 

“Definitely. We could use any of these as the main background for the campaign and have huge success,” Natasha added. 

Steve was quiet. He flipped through the photos looking at the composition, the lighting, the obvious emotional tug they were meant to inspire. People would be crying just looking at them, not to mention digging deep into their wallets for funding. He knew with certainty that it would all work out for them. Which left him thinking again about Tony who had lost his entire livelihood. 

“We should sell some of the prints at the silent auction,” Sam said. “I would gladly have any one of these hanging in my house.” 

They all murmured their agreement. 

“Great job, guys,” Sam said when they had reached the end of the slide show. 

“We didn’t have that much to do with it, really,” Steve responded quietly.

“Stark has a gift,” Natasha added. 

“What’s that other thing?” Sam asked, scrolling to a file named STEVE. 

“Oh, that one is for you, boss,” she said to their leader with a private smirk. “We ought to let him look through those on his own. Let’s go strategize.” 

“Sure, okay,” Sam responded with only the slightest hesitation before getting up. “We’ll see you for the meeting at three?” 

“Yeah,” Steve answered automatically, his mind already on the folder bearing his name. 

“He tried to bury these, but I dug them up,” Natasha whispered close to Steve’s ear and winked when he turned to stare at her. She took Sam’s arm and led him from the room, shutting the door behind her. 

Steve clicked on the folder and the screen was suddenly full of his own image. He was looking past the camera, eyes bright, smiling unselfconsciously, his hair ruffled by a gentle breeze. It was a great picture, artfully done, and captured him in a moment of contentment. 

“Ah, Tony,” he sighed. He could just imagine the photographer turning from his work to snap a quick shot of Steve. He scrolled through and was surprised to find that there were more. Lots more. His chest tightened as he saw the loving care with which each image was crafted.  _ He tried to bury them _ , Steve thought sadly,  _ which means he wanted to keep these ones just for himself. _

The anger he had been hiding behind like an enormous shield for the past two days no longer seemed so important. He hadn’t even been willing to listen to Tony’s explanation, had just walked away rather than open himself up to any further pain. Looking through these pictures anyone could see...Tony was in love with him. And Steve had discarded him with all possible speed. 

  
  


Later that day while Steve was sitting at his desk reviewing his notes from the earlier strategy meeting there was a tap on the door. Sam entered, grinning. 

“So, there is this seriously  _ gorgeous _ redhead standing in reception asking to see you.”

Steve was confused. He didn’t know anyone matching that description. “Okay, thanks, I’ll go check it out.”

“Seriously, man. If you pass, let me know, because I would love to-”

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve said with a tone of finality. He made a mental note to tell Sam he was gay at the next available opportunity and walked past him out into the office. 

Sam wasn’t wrong. The woman standing in the reception area was truly stunning, not just on a surface level (which she was) but there was the light of true intelligence in her eyes as well. Nevertheless, Steve’s heart sank because he recognized this woman after all. She was the one he had seen on Tony’s phone when he had picked it up that night in the hotel. Wifey. This was Mrs. Tony Stark. 

“Mr. Rogers,” she said in a lilting accent, standing and offering him her small hand. He shook it with some trepidation, poised to defend himself should she decide to strike. She just kept smiling at him like they were old friends, shaking his hand warmly. “I’m Virginia Potts. You know, Tony’s secret wife,” she added in a conspiratorial undertone. 

“Uh, yes,” he said. “I’ve heard.” 

“That’s why I’m here, actually. Is there some place we could talk?” She was still smiling and Steve didn’t sense any threat from her so he nodded and led the way to the conference room. 

“Can I get you coffee or anything?” he offered purely from habit. Good manners died hard. 

“Aren’t you considerate. No, thank you. I don’t think I’ll be staying long.” She pulled out a chair, lowered herself into it and stared at him for a long moment. “You are a gorgeous creature, aren’t you? Completely Tony’s type.”

Steve let out the breath he had been holding. “I don’t know what he’s--”

She raised a hand, stilling his babble. “You might want to hear what I have to say before you rush to any kind of judgement. I’m sure it seems like I came here to confront you, possibly with some kind of heavy weaponry, but I assure you that’s not the case. Won’t you sit down?” 

She gestured to the seat across from her and Steve took it, conscious of the little flame of hope that had rekindled inside him. 

“The first thing you have to know is that Tony is an idiot,” she said flatly and surprised Steve into laughter. “He really is. Always working against his own best interests. He should have told you about me when he figured out that he was in love with you and it was an egregious error in judgement that he did not.”

“Virginia, look-”

“Oh no, Pepper, please. All my friends call me Pepper. And I’d really like us to be friends, Steve. Now, just listen for a moment, all right? My point is that Tony doesn’t always think things through and he doesn’t like to examine his feelings or his actions very closely. So, he made a huge mistake. And I’m here to try to correct it, at least as much as I can.” 

“You always clean up after him?” Steve asked, leaning back in his chair. 

“More than anyone will ever know, I suspect,” she replied mildly. “And in this case what you need to know is that Tony and I are married, yes, in the legal sense. But we aren’t a couple. We don’t sleep together, we don’t even live together. Hell, I didn’t even take his name when we got married.” 

“Forgive me, Pepper, but this all sounds a little far fetched.” 

She nodded, tucking an errant strand of strawberry hair behind her ear. “I realize that. It seemed that way to me too when Tony first proposed, but it has ended up working out pretty well for both of us. You see, I immigrated to the US with my father about ten years ago so he could seek medical treatment. He has a rare autoimmune disorder that no one in my country could do anything about. He needed expensive treatments that could only be completed in the US. But, eventually our visa ran out and we were going to have to go home.”

“Unless you married an American,” Steve finished for her. The pieces all fell into place in his mind and it felt like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted.

“Right. You’re very perceptive. I had met Tony through his friend James Rhodes a few months prior and it was his idea for us to get married. We’re very close, you see. Best friends. I love him with all my heart, Steve, but I’m not attracted to him. Nor he to me. Platonic, I think you call that.”

“So you two eloped?” 

She nodded. “Yes, we kept the whole thing under wraps so there wouldn’t be a media frenzy. My father was able to stay because of my newfound citizenship and has been receiving groundbreaking medical care.”

“How is he doing?” Steve asked. 

She smiled at him and shook her head in wonder. “You really are something, aren’t you? I see why Tony likes you. My father is doing wonderfully. He’s lived for much longer than anyone thought possible and with a better quality of life than we ever could have hoped. And I have Tony to thank for that. So,” she continued, leaning forward, “you see why I had to come and try to make things right between you two.”

Steve leaned in as well, unconsciously mirroring her. “He told you about me?” 

“He tells me everything, dear. And while I’m sure he left out some parts,” she said with a wink, “he told me the bits that matter. And I pieced together the fact that he loves you all on my own.” 

“You’re a good detective,” Steve said. 

She laughed. “Yes, I guess so. Anyway, what do you say to giving him another chance knowing what you know now?” 

“I, uh, I feel a little awkward discussing this with you and not him, Pepper.” 

“Sure, I understand. I just wanted to make sure you knew the whole story before you met with him again. And, well, he’s not exactly in a very good place at the moment. Between fighting with you and his father, well,” she spread her hands, “he’s not in a very good place.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” Steve asked. “I, uh, feel pretty terrible about the way I treated him.”

“Funny you should say that, because I do actually have a favor to ask of you,” Pepper said with a sly look. 

He smiled across the table at her, “I have a feeling you’re a very hard woman to say no to.”

“Impossible,” she confirmed with a grin. 


	10. Bit of a Day

Tony stood outside his apartment building on a freezing rainy morning and mentally ranked the worst moments of his life. As bad times went having impromptu open heart surgery on the floor of a dirty warehouse ranked pretty high. Having a doctor held at gunpoint rooting around in his chest cavity with only half a bottle of malt liquor and a bonk on the head as anesthesia was near the top. But all of that was in the past, a distant if traumatic memory, and right now he was lonely, broke, and hurt. His mother had given up trying to get in touch with him after his father’s indictment and had taken to calling Pepper and Rhodey every few hours trying desperately to get one of them to work on him. Tony hardened his heart and turned her away over and over, though it killed him to do it every time. Basically, life sucked.

A dark mid-level luxury sedan pulled up in front of him and the passenger window rolled down. Tony stepped forward cautiously and when he saw the earnest good-looking man behind the wheel he frowned.

“Guess your company really must have failed if you’re driving for Uber now.”

“I’m on a mission,” Steve said. “Will you get in?”

Tony contemplated his options. He was tempted to storm off in a huff, nursing his hurt feelings, but a more significant part of him wasn’t going to look this gift hunk in the mouth. He sighed and pulled open the door, sliding onto the leather seats.

“This your car?” he asked, buckling his seatbelt.

Steve nodded. “Natasha calls it the Dad-Mobile.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Steve put the car into gear and pulled out, glancing at Tony out of the corner of his eye. He was wearing a crisp blue shirt that brought out his eyes and a very eloquent expression of apology.

“Listen,” Tony began staring out the windshield and bracing himself.

“Hold on,” Steve interrupted before he could really get going, taking one hand off the wheel and putting it on Tony’s leg. _Well, now_ , Tony thought and covered Steve’s big hand with his own. “Let me go first, okay?”

“Chivalry is dead after all,” Tony joked, but then obediently held his tongue.

Steve took a deep breath and said. “Pepper came to see me.”

Tony gasped before he could stop himself. “She _what_? The meddling-”

“No, it was a good thing, Tony. She’s great, really,” he said without a trace of heartbreak, “She explained the whole situation. About you two.”

“Uh huh,” Tony said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“And I really need you to know how sorry I am about what happened. I should have listened to you, let you explain. I just...I’m not very good at opening up, you know. After everything that’s happened. And when I thought you were married, you know, for real it scared me. But I shouldn’t have just walked away like that.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got a lot of practice in having everyone disappointed with me.”

Steve stopped at a red light and faced him with a serious expression. “It’s not okay. You’re a remarkable person, Tony. You’re a brilliant artist and you care more than anyone I’ve ever met. You may have a bad rep, and maybe you even earned it at one point, but you _aren’t_ that person. If someone took you away from me...hell, I’d never stop fighting. You’re worth a great deal and to hell with your dad or anyone else who says otherwise.”

Tony bit his lip, absurdly touched by the declaration. “Okay, well,” he cleared his throat, “consider yourself forgiven.”

“And, yes, you should have told me you were married even if it’s just on paper, but I understand why you didn’t.”

“Guess I’m scared too,” Tony said in a small voice.

Steve squeezed his leg. “I get it.”

“I really want to kiss you, but you’re driving.”

“Patience is a virtue,” Steve said with a grin.

“Oh, honey, I passed virtuous by a long-ass time ago.”

They both laughed. Steve took a right turn onto the expressway and it suddenly dawned on Tony that he had no idea where they were headed.

“Where are you dragging me off to? A fancy hotel, I hope.”

Steve blushed a little and shook his head. “Yeah, that’s the other thing. You’re not going to like it.”

The behemoth shape of the Stark Industries building loomed in the distance and Tony felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

“Oh _hell_ no!” he cried, reaching for the door handle. Steve yelped and set the automatic locks before Tony could throw himself out onto the highway.

“Crimony! Dramatic much?” Steve asked in disbelief.

Tony shoved the other man’s hand off of him and pulled himself as far away as he could get. “You fucking Judas! I’m not going, Steve. Whatever my mother or Pepper or any other asshole has communicated to you this is a non-starter. Do you feel me? I’ll cut my own throat before I set foot in there.”

“Tony,” Steve said gently, his voice deliberately calm like he was gentling a wild animal. “When we were in DC I didn’t listen to you. About Pepper. I didn’t let you explain. I messed up and I’d like very much for you to be a better man than I was and just hear me out before you rush to judgement.”

Tony huddled against the passenger-side door and considered this proposition. Steve pulled into the parking lot of SI and stopped the car, turning his big body as much as possible to face the other man. He looked so earnest. “If you were anyone else I would not still be in the car,” Tony stated flatly. “You have thirty seconds and then I’m going to call the police and report a kidnapping.”

“Okay,” Steve said. He reached into the space between the center console and his seat and pulled out a thick envelope. He handed it to Tony who opened it to find a fat legal document on Stark Industries stationary. He looked it over, understanding nothing.

“What the hell is this?”

“Before your Dad went to prison he had the opportunity to sign over his controlling interest of Stark Industries.” Steve reached over and flipped back the first few pages of the legal documents, then pointed at a line near the middle of the page which bore the name: Anthony Edward Stark. Tony stared at it in disbelief.

“If this is a joke it’s a really shitty one,” he muttered.

“It’s not a joke, Tony. Your dad gave you his company. You sign that document and you’re the majority shareholder of Stark Industries. You’ll be the CEO, too, if the board confirms you, which is in their own best interest at this point.”

The pages in front of his eyes swam and Tony had to look away to reorient himself. Steve waited patiently.

“This isn’t right,” he said finally. “My dad would _never_ in a million years have given me his company. It was his life. And he hated me.”

“He might have had some help,” Steve admitted.

“Pepper.”

The big man nodded and Tony groaned, covering his face with his hands. “In what universe am I meant to think of this as a good turn of events? I hate Stark Industries and everything they stand for. I’ve spent my life trying to get away from this damn place.”

“That’s because it’s the other way around. You don’t need the company, Tony. The company needs _you_. SI is a behemoth, an industry titan, but it’s become corrupt. Your father is serving out those prison sentences and it’s time for a new era. It’s time for SI to show the world that it has more to offer the world than just making things that blow up. They need a hero. It’s your name on the side of the building.”

Tony stared at him. “I don’t know the first thing about running a company.”

“I do.”

That made him laugh. “So, what, you’re gonna dump your philanthropic efforts and come work for me instead?”

Steve nodded. “If you’ll have me.”

Tony blinked and sat back. “You’re serious.”

“America's Shield is going to be fine. The fundraiser is going to be a huge success, mostly thanks to you, and it’s been time for me to move on for a while now. Natasha will take over and she’ll do more with it than I ever could have. You and I have an opportunity to do something truly great here,” he pointed at the massive building outside the window. “C’mon, you know we’ll be a heck of a team.”

Tony snorted. “Oh, I have no doubt.” He heaved a giant sigh and looked out the window into the gray distance. “Let me just recap for a moment and see if I have this straight. You met Pepper, she told you the story about our marriage and you’re just fine and dandy with that whole thing-”

“More than that,” Steve interjected, “I think it’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever heard.”

“Okay, and then before my Dad got packed off to prison he signed over his _company_ to me just like that and now I have the opportunity to be a CEO. And you’re going to quit your job at the company you started and come teach me how to guide this flaming train wreck back to benevolence?”

He turned to face Steve. “That about the size of it?”

The blonde was grinning. “It’s been a bit of a day.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“So, what do you say?”

Tony looked into the other man’s eyes, then leaned across the console and kissed him. Steve put his hands on either side of Tony’s face and pulled him closer. Tony’s arms went around his neck and they embraced passionately until the windows were steamed up.

“Got a pen?” Tony murmured when they parted and Steve actually cheered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Bits of Steve's speech were cribbed from Iron Man 1. It reminded me how much I *love* that movie. Must go watch it again!


	11. Good Work

Steve was awoken by the sound of a phone ringing somewhere in the room. He sat up, looking around for the culprit and in the process displaced Tony who had been sprawled on top of him. The brunette squawked and burrowed back into the covers. 

“Tony,” Steve said, shaking him, “I think that’s your phone.” 

“Meh,” the other man grunted. 

Sighing, Steve climbed out of bed and navigated the various moving boxes stacked on either side of the bed to where he had relieved Tony of his clothes the previous evening. The horny brunette hadn’t even let him start unpacking things in their new place. No sooner had the moving crew taken off (having assembled the bed, thank goodness) Tony had attacked him and...well, what was a fella to do? 

He picked up Tony’s jeans and pulled out the phone, which was still buzzing. After glancing at the display to see who it was, Steve answered with a smile. 

“Irresponsible CEO’s answering service,” he said. 

“I heard that,” Tony groaned from the bed. 

“Good morning, handsome,” Pepper said warmly from the other end of the line. “Is he sleeping in again?” 

“Oh, hi  _ Pepper _ ,” Steve said loudly and Tony popped up, tousle-headed and totally awake. “No, he’s here.” 

“Could I speak to him, please?” 

“Sure. It’s your wife,” he said to Tony, weaving his way back to bed and handing the phone over. 

“Good morning wifey,” Tony said, flopping back on the pillows. 

Steve opened one of the wardrobe boxes and went in search of his flannel pants. He found them buried underneath a bunch of Tony’s rock and roll t-shirts and pulled them on. He padded into the kitchen to see if he could find the coffee maker. He found his own phone sitting on the counter, dangerously low on battery life. He had two text messages from Natasha. 

 

_ Natasha: Congratulations on the new place. I’ve got a housewarming gift to bring you later on.  _

_ Natasha: When you get a minute, come and help me with the filing system at AS. You printed EVERYTHING, Steve. Is this 1992? Seriously. I’m drowning. Love you.  _

 

He smiled and tapped out a quick response saying he would come by to save the day as soon as he could. 

“Steve!” Tony bellowed from the bedroom. 

“Yeah?” he shouted back. 

“What’s an executive summary?” 

“It’s part of a business plan,” Steve answered leaning in to kiss Tony on the head when he walked into the room. 

“Oh,” the dark haired man answered, tilting his head up for a proper kiss before saying into the phone, “that sounds like a Pepper thing, Pepper. Seriously. I deputize you to do all the paperwork. Look, we’ve been over this. I’m the vision guy and you’re the man on the ground. You and Steve,” he corrected. “Things are getting back on track, Pepper. Don’t stress so much. We’re doing good work.” 

He opened the fridge, realized that it was empty, then turned back at Steve with a  _ what the hell  _ gesture. Steve shrugged. 

“Listen,” Tony said into the phone, “I have to go. I need to buy orange juice so that I’m not living like a god-damn caveman. Sure. We’ll see you later. Okay, bye. Yes, I’ll tell him. Love you too.” 

He hung up and tossed the phone onto the counter. “She says she loves you too,” he told Steve standing behind him and encircling the bigger man in his arms. 

“She’s sweet,” Steve said. “Do you know where the coffee maker is?” 

Tony frowned. “You did all the packing.” 

“Yeah, but then you kept opening boxes and sticking random things in, so now I have no idea what’s where.” 

Tony thrust his hips against Steve’s butt. “I’m gonna stick some random things in you.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve said, but he was smiling fondly. 

“Take me out to breakfast?” Tony pleaded. 

Steve turned, taking the smaller man in his arms. “Your wish is my command.” 

“I like the sound of that,” Tony said and kissed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Sheesh, that turned out longer than expected. I think I'm going to practice writing something *short* next time. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: You guys! I'm officially a published author! Woo! If you want to check out my book you can find it here: https://www.cmrandles.com/books (it's chock full of juicy romance and gay porn, I promise!)


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